Invisible Killer
by AutumnDoe
Summary: As a serial killer strikes Vegas, Captain Brass sets out to stop the killer. 2000 word challange, quick crime case.


**Disclaimer:** Again, I don't own any of these characters that feature in my story from CSI.

This was a challange from a friend to see if I could write a Dual Narrative Detective story in under 2000 words. It might seem a little fast paced, but I had to conlude it within the limit. The story flicks through the two different main characters with Captain Brass been written in _italics._ The other part is written from the eys of the murderer.

* * *

I pick them. I stalk them. I kill them. Simple and I don't get caught. I'm careful, you see. I don't leave any trace of myself behind. They don't see me, but I see them. Oh yes. I see every bit of them. The part that even they can't see themselves. Their weak spots. How they wander into dark, secluded parts of town on their way home, even though they have been warned never to walk alone after hours. It's like a game of cat and mouse. I'm the predator, and they are my ever unsuspecting prey. I'm waiting to pounce on them as I hide silently in the shadows, lurking in the black depths behind. They'll never catch me.

_As I flicked on the light switch, the hum of the incandescent lighting filled the silence of the room. I walked over to my desk placing the scolding cup of caffeine down on a spare patch of table. It was going to be a long night. I looked down at the various photos strewn on my desk and sighed. The images captured two lifeless bodies looking worn and limp, gunshot to the head in exactly the same place, the cause of death. We're looking for someone with a good shot, we know that much. Victims were not shot point blank; no gunshot residue around the entrance hole, so to aim in the same place both times required great precision and skill. _

_The first girl, 26 years young, brunette. Body found two weeks ago behind a dumpster outside a Chinese take-out. Moved post-mortem, no fingerprints found on the body. The second, 33, redhead, still currently a Jane Doe. Body found 5 days back in a wood behind city park. Victims apparently picked from random. Nothing in common except from gender. Two victims both female, found across town from each other. Suggested serial killer, though no evidence to prove otherwise. Whoever this guy was, he was good, too good. I sighed and looked up at the clock, no chance of getting sleep tonight. Glancing back down at the pictures again, I felt a sudden urge to catch this guy. Someone out there lost a mother, a friend. I blinked at the picture as another thought crossed my mind. A daughter. I thought back to Ellie, and our non-existent relationship. I had to find this guy, to give their families piece of mind, and for me to rest safely at night knowing another killer was off the street. However, there was no evidence, no trace, nothing to be found at either of the crime scenes. Two bullets, one from each body that Robbins extracted from autopsy, both matched to different stolen guns. The 'invisible killer' was doing his best not to be found._

I watch through the bushes, a hidden shape camouflaged in the green undergrowth that provides me with an excellent prying spot. The familiar click of high-heeled shoes against the cold asphalt grew louder as a girl wandered round the corner. She's the one. A blonde beauty. My blonde beauty. She doesn't notice me, and so she shouldn't, too busy applying lipstick in her compact mirror. How naive, and how all alone. They never learn. 'It won't happen to me' they say, but it's her lucky day. She's special, this one. I picked her, so she must be, of course. I have an eye for spotting the pretty ones. As she comes closer, I lift my gun from its holder and slowly screw on the silencer, careful not to make a sound. The soft scraping of metal on metal was luckily disguised by the sound of rustling leaves from the sharp gust of wind that broke the stillness of the night. I poise myself ready and mount my 9mm over the top of the shrub. I aim and pull the trigger. Surprise. I watch in awe as she slowly falls to the ground with a sickening thud. Bone on concrete. Her precious blood flowed from her lifeless form, forming a glistening crimson puddle of life essence on the floor, to be eternally lost, taking her life as it seeps into the tarmac. Not so pretty now, and she didn't suspect a thing. Maybe blondes are dumb after all.

_I rolled over and looked at the green neon numbers on my alarm clock. 1:43. I scratched my f__orehead and flipped over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, making out shapes in the dimly lit room above. This was becoming some sort of a ritual for me, every time I couldn't drift off. I hadn't had a decent night sleep in a fortnight. I can't seem to settle with the thought of him loose in the city. The pictures of the two young girls are embedded in my mind, and refuse to go away. I swing my legs out from the warmth of the bed and place my feet cautiously on the cold floor. I rub my eyes of sleep and groggily walk over to the shower room. There was no point in trying to fall asleep, I was already partially awake. I turned on the shower and stepped in, the harsh ice water hammering down on my skin like unwanted visitors banging on your front door. The familiar bleep of my pager could be heard over the running water from the other room. I grabbed a towel and padded through to my bedroom, water dripping from my goose bumped body like directional blood drops. I fished around in my pocket and pulled out my pager, trying to read the message in the early morning light. Vartann, 419. We had found another._

It amuses me to watch them. They move around inside the arena of yellow tape searching for clues they hope to find to solve their case. Part of me wants them to find something, don't I at least deserve some credit for my work? After all, it is beautifully crafted. Crafted to perfection. How I love to see them lying under plastic sheets, watching the faces of the officers passing by as they see yet another young life taken from the world. I watch as one of them bends down, and my heart skips a beat in concern. Have they found something? I ask myself, but my worries are dismissed as he straightens and frowns. It makes me laugh how they flash their badge around, like a sign of authority. It seems I'm the one with power over them, I think I've outsmarted them. Well they haven't discovered me out yet. I see a tired looking unshaven man cross the barrier of yellow tape, I spot his badge as he walks swiftly over to the first responding officer. So this is the guy on my back. He takes out a pad, writes down a few notes, then glances at the body. A look of sadness and pity sweep across his chiselled features, but when he looks back up, all thoughts of concern turn into thoughts of anger. He scans the assembling crowd, then begins to walk to where some other passersby and I are standing. This is my cue to leave. I turn around and begin to walk away, pausing to glance over my shoulder for one last look at the scene I had created and was responsible for. That's when our eyes met. Just for a second, but enough to stimulate a change in his expression. Something sparked in his eye, a glimmer of something not quite right. He narrowed his eyes and I quickly swivelled round and began to walk away. His eyes burned a hole in my back. I could feel his heated stare following me as I walked down the street. I know I should lay low for a while, but I can't, the impulse is too strong. I know one thing is certain, they'll never catch me.

_"Control, this is Captain Brass, we're looking for a Caucasian male, mid-fifties, possible suspect," I called into my radio._

_Our encounter from this morning had stayed with me all day, and after my years of service I knew by now that my instincts were usually right. His picture was laid out in front of me from this morning. It was procedure to photograph the crowd, and it was lucky that we did. We were going to find him, I was determined to. We distributed his picture to local officers hoping someone would recognize his face and identify him. It was a start, our only start._

I said I couldn't stop, and I can't. So that's why I'm here hiding behind a wall in a dark alley, waiting. I blame the impulse. As she approaches the place where I am hiding, my heart beats faster, pumping blood quicker round my heated body. I have to give into my needs, so I jump out and shoot. She falls to the ground, this time it was quick. The smell of death enters through my nostrils, triggering thoughts in my mind. I close my eyes and imagine her lying on a cold slab; I love to see the fear in their eyes. I wonder sometimes if I take too much pleasure from my hobby. They call all men like me psychopaths, but what would you expect when your mother was killed by one? A calm, caring child? I don't think so. The blank wall next to her lifeless body was used as a canvas with her blood as the paint, watching from the closet as he drew a pretty picture, joining the blood splatter together like a game of dot to dot. I'll never forget the sound of bullet to bone.

_"We have him, a Mr. John Riviera. Two units sent ahead to his last known address," my radio vibrated against the softness of the fabric seats in my police car._

_I put my keys in the ignition and revved the engine. I felt a rush of relief sweep through my body as I tuned on the siren and made my way towards the address coming through on my radio. If it was him, once we had caught him, he couldn't hurt anybody anymore. He would be locked up for life._

I like to be in control, I like to take charge of what happens, and how. I'm like a parasite. I feed off of the horror and disgust that others feel from my work, I get pleasure from watching others suffer. People have never understood me, but I don't understand them, so why does it matter? It's my way of therapy, how I unwind and let out all the anger from my past. I also love the feeling. The feeling of power, the realisation that you decide what happens, how the situation lies in your hand. That's why I do what I do, because everyone needs some control in their lives. And that's why I'm doing this. I'm taking it into my own hands, deciding my fate myself. Not some judge in a court room, me. So I take a pen, and scribble some words. I'm ready for my final kill.

_"LVPD,open up," I bang on his door._

_Nothing. No answer. I draw my gun and stand back as the door is kicked down by Vartann. Silence from the room, something wasn't right. I walk in with my gun ahead of me and look for any sign of movement._

_"It's clear," I shouted back, giving a sign to the others that it's safe to enter. I wander round the house checking the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom. All empty._

_"Captain"_

_I hear a shout, Vega from one of the backrooms and follow the voice into a bedroom. I froze as I walked through the door. A body was laid in front of my feet, still, lifeless. Mr. Riviera. His gun was still clasped in his hand, in the other, a piece of paper. Slowly, I bent down, took the paper from his fist and unfolded it. The message read, 'You found me'._


End file.
